


i'll be your oasis if you will be my storm

by orphan_account



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, thanks ivy!, the joker gets a bloody nose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 14:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6709288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Salvation Run au; Ivy saves Harley from the Joker, who is, as always, a fucking prick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll be your oasis if you will be my storm

**Author's Note:**

> This was for a prompt on tumblr, and an incredibly specific one at that. Any continuity errors are mine, this has been sitting in my drafts and been edited so many times so I might have changed or missed something. Let me know of any mistakes and I will change them! 
> 
> Fair warning, there are depictions of violence in this, but I didn't think it was descriptive enough to warrant an archive tag. If you're sensitive to that kind of thing, tread carefully.

 

Ivy remembers. 

Cygnus looked peaceful at first glance- and now, maybe it was- but it was a fragile peace, a peace like a bird figurine made from frosted glass and begging to be shattered. And, given its occupants, it’s a wonder it’s even that stable. 

Ivy remembers the reason they were sent here. 

They were bad people. Or, at least, her previous society had branded them as such, and once that happened, the contents of one’s character become obsolete. You’re branded a villain, you become one. And what better place to send the undesirables of society but away? She speculated. As much as she resented the forcible removal from her home, the ripping up of her roots from her previous home, she had to admit she had grown to like it on Cygnus. It had been hard to plant herself in the concrete jungle speckled with dilapidated old warehouses and cold rain that encompassed Gotham. 

There was greenery here, at least, and privacy. Unless she were to join an allegiance, everyone was content to leave her alone- more or less. Everyone mostly kept to themselves, after all the fighting that had first made up their stay at Cygnus. The status quo was to either join one of the rag-tag, scheming and (in Ivy’s opinion) dangerous allegiances, or skulk around alone. Ivy chose the latter. This meant resigning herself to a life of suspicious glares, bth on the giving and receiving ends, no friends- and no enemies. 

Well, one couldn’t say that with certainty, either- they were felons, scum, the worst kinds of criminals, and even minding her own business, Ivy could still end up with a knife in the back. It was still less likely than if she had been so careless as to let someone watch her back, though- she would watch it herself. She would keep her head down. She would plant, and put down roots, lonely, but, as much as feasible, safe. 

She had always been cautionary, which was an instinct that came in handy during the relatively brief but brutal infighting among the inmates that first landed at Cygnus. While conspicuous figures like Luthor and the maniacal Joker, among others,  fought for the top spot on the newly constructed totem pole, or- even more dangerously- plotted escape, Ivy built. She constructed hiding spots, claiming the cracks and crevices nobody else wanted or even deigned to recognize for what it was; vital property. She had the makings of moss like resilience, lichen-esque adaptability. 

So, when fallout came and went in a burning haze, Ivy was there. Watching, biding her time, cultivating her own new roots. She had few dealings with anyone associated with the large allegiances, which were no longer at each other’s throats like rabid dogs, but still buzzed with the potential for another round of devastation. She worked with a few, when it was necessary. Supply exchange, trading, the sort of unavoidable thing that probably wouldn’t get her on anyone’s bad side. Catwoman, those who knew no allegiance, the members of the Suicide Squad- people she by no means trusted, or would ever call her friends. The closest thing she had to a friend was Catwoman. The elusive Selina Kyle bounced between the larger camps of Vandal Savage, Luthor, the Joker, Grodd, and the smaller factions that had splintered off over the past few years. She wasn't on anyone’s good side, and she was on everyone’s bad, including Ivy’s- certainly not to be trusted, but a reliable source of information. 

Ivy didn’t long for companionship, though. She had her greenery. Her solitude, her safety. 

She thought that was enough. And for awhile, it was. She didn’t recognize- or wouldn’t admit to herself- when she started itching for more than moss and memory. 

She must have, though. Or she wouldn’t have taken up the mission. She would have told Catwoman to go lick herself clean, or perhaps something a little less rude, but she wouldn’t have agreed to this, and wouldn’t be in the scenario. 

Normally, she would distance herself as far as she could from the Joker’s camp. He was trouble, and so were the people that associated with him. But Selina had gotten on Grodd’s bad side, as she had a knack for doing, and Ivy had no doubts that Grodd would have no qualms about killing her if she didn’t have some leverage. 

Obviously, Catwoman had promised information about the status of the Joker’s camp to Grodd, who suspected the green-haired man might be planning an attack. Grodd and Joker had split into two factions awhile back, enraging the Joker since Grodd had taken a large portion of his followers. Ivy didn’t know the specifics of their division, and didn't really care, but she chalked it up to an ego clash or an ideological difference in their particular brands of anarchy and malice.  Information she actually didn’t have, but had to get- and fast, as the clock Grodd had put on her was ticking. 

She couldn’t access it herself, though. Besides being under Grodd’s watch at the moment, a well-treated but for all intents and purposes prisoner, if she was caught in the Joker’s way again he would kill her and anyone who he suspected associated with her, after he learned she had sold his schemes to one of the many people on his bad side.

She was reluctant to call in favors from her usual suspects, as everyone who wasn’t aligned to the Joker- and, truth be told, even some who were- were wary of him, and rightfully so, and thus intended to avoid him like the lurid green hair was the effect of a contagious plague and not just an unfortunate style choice. Those who had no hangups about getting close to the Joker were also those that wanted to wrap their hands- or tentacles, or whatever strangling appendage they had to offer- around his pale neck and choke him to death, so they were out as stealthy operatives. That left Ivy. Ivy wouldn’t be suspect, she was barely a blip on the radar as it was.

So, that left the outing up to her. With any luck, she wouldn’t have to deal with the man directly, but could ascertain the status of his attack plans, followers, and weaponry without arousing suspicion. Her cover story, if it came to that, was, of course, regarding plants. Nobody tended to question her role as crazy gardener lady, and when she jabbered on about needing to know soil compositions or lichen location patterns and how they affected the root toxicity of other plants, or something else either scientific, nonsensical, or a mix of the two, people inevitably stopped listening and either hustled her away with no repercussion, or, usually, let her do her work. 

It was with this mindset that she made her way into the Joker’s camp. Miraculously, or perhaps suspiciously, it was seemingly unguarded. 

No, more than just unguarded. It was… In a shocking state of disarray. Far fewer people than she expected roamed about- either they were hidden away in tents or the shoddily constructed buildings, or there were no longer as many supporters of the Joker as she had expected. 

It was eerily quiet. Ivy was nearing what appeared to be the center of the whole shebang, and still no signs of life. She started to twinge with annoyance, but also an edge of fear. Catwoman might have been wrong, but…. No. It couldn’t be, could it? The Joker, falling from power? She looked to her side, stepping closer to examine a dilapidated building. It appeared to be an empty warehouse or storage unit of some kind. The Joker didn’t even appear to have the resources to attack Grodd’s apparently much more fortified area, much less the scheming men she had expected to see.

At that thought, though, her attention was drawn to the sound of a scuffle on the other side of the building. 

There was what sounded like a slap, muffle whining, and-

The Joker’s voice. Yelling. 

Curious, and more than a bit apprehensive, she hastened around, coming to a halt a few yards behind the Joker. He didn’t notice her. His attention was focused on the situation, as was Ivy’s. 

A blonde woman trembled on the ground in front of him. Ivy immediately recognized her as Harleen Quinzel, the Joker’s partner in crime, quite literally, and lover. He was hunched over, heaving, lowering his hand- clearly dangerously enraged. 

Harley wore an expression of fear, but also- defensiveness? Tears spilled from her eyes, making her mascara run and leaving tracks in her foundation, far too white for her face. She snarled, red lipstick smudged. She was the most beautiful thing Ivy had ever seen.

“Fuck you!” Harley spat, which didn’t help quell the Joker’s anger- he lunged forward again, punching her, closed-fist, in the face. She jerked backward, clutching her sore jaw, collapsing to the ground with the grace of a cat hit by a car. 

“You don’t control me anymore! I’m sick a’ this!” Her bottom lip trembled, her voice beginning to quaver. “This is why everybody leaves ya,” she sniffled, “it’s cuz yer a mean, despicable, dumb old bastahd!” She had a fire in her eyes as she said this, seemed to be taking a sort of pleasure in finally releasing the taunts from her place on the ground beneath the violent man. Her face was set, stubborn, not showing just how much it hurt as the Joker mercilessly beat her. 

The duo had been so immersed in their arguing that neither of them had noticed Ivy, who was now firmly behind the Joker- in grabbing distance, in fact. 

Don’t get involved in conflict; mind your own business; keep your head down; don’t make friends- or enemies. Ivy broke her cardinal rules with the action that came next. 

She grabbed his arm as he rose it, holding him back. Harley’s eyes widened in recognition when she saw Ivy. She smiled, almost like she was giving Ivy permission, or thanks, maybe, before closing her eyes, unconscious. 

The Joker jerked in Ivy’s grip, spinning around to face her. “Who do you think you are?” he roared. Ivy knit her brows and frowned, disgusted. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied, and it took more effort than she had ever used before to keep her tone level. This just seemed to infuriate the Joker more, who lunged forward, now focused on Ivy. 

“Mind your own business, damn bi-” he censored himself, unintentionally, as his fist connected with Ivy’s forearm. He had been aiming, of course, for her face, but Ivy was unsurprised to observe that his already questionable hand-to-hand combat skills were further muddled by his haze of rage. 

Hers weren’t much better, though, but it didn’t seem to matter in the moment. Or maybe she was a better fighter than she thought. She remembered what happened next, but for the final few moments of the fight, as her fist connected repeatedly with the Joker’s face, she seemed to observe the situation from an outside perspective. She’d be lying is she said the loss of control didn’t scare her a little- the raw emotion steered her physical vessel as her mental self was set aside, watching the anger steer her into unaccountable acts of violence, separate from her and yet still the same. 

Ivy held the Joker in place with her left arm, gripping his wrist. She brought her right up for a series of quick jabs to the face- the first connected with his nose, breaking it. Blood gushed down his sickly pale face, and he reeled backwards, stunned. Ivy took the opportunity to give him a black eye and simultaneously put a knee to his groin, followed by shoving his already busted face into her bent knee. He groaned pathetically, crumpling to the ground. 

Ivy didn’t go so far as to kick him while he was literally down- she was transfixed by the unnatural angle of his nose, the sticky crimson in his eyes, dripping down onto his clothes.

Besides, she had a mission to fulfill. It was a little different, now, than the one she had originally come into the camp with. She had to make sure Harley was safe. Obviously, that meant she couldn’t leave the girl here on the ground for the Joker to find when either one of them awoke- or, for that matter, for one of his allies to stumble upon, even though the scuffle hadn’t attracted anyone and there were still no signs of life. 

Contemplating, she scooped up the unconscious Harley. She was slighter than she looked, even limp and deadweighting. She was small, maybe five feet, no more than a hundred pounds. Unconscious in Ivy’s arms, she looked like almost like a child, with the pigtails- but that was just if one ignored the swelling purpling eye, the bruised jaw, smeared makeup… No, this was no child, this was a woman, and a hell of a strong one at that, to have been what Harley had been through. 

Ivy didn’t tire carrying the smaller woman, but she was still thankful that she had a safe spot nearby to take her to. Despite throwing caution to the wind earlier in order to rescue the woman she had secretly pined after for years, maybe since even before they had landed on this hellhole, she said a silent prayer of thanks to her usual precautionary habits. When she had first made her home on Cygnus, she had established several hideouts around the place so that she would always have a safe spot to recuperate or hide- or, in this case, nurse another person back to health and hide them from their abusive, now-ex boyfriend that she had just beaten up. Yeah, that one, admittedly, she hadn’t been expecting. 

She made it to the place, a little cave off an alcove of rock about a mile away from the outskirts of the Joker’s current base. She hadn’t had need to use the place in years- it was only really meant as a pit-stop anyway, but it would do for now. She set Harley down on a tarp blanket, wishing she had pillows- the fluffiest kind, down feathers, or India cotton sheets, the very best the world had to offer for Harley- but it would do. She cracked open a sealed medical kit, a can of water. She bit her lip, wondering whether or not to cut Harley’s clothes off her to clean her up and examine the injuries, but then the blonde woman stirred. 

She made a small mewling noise, raising one hand to rub the sleep from her eyes. She registered that she was with Ivy, and the tension in her shoulders seemed to fall away. She blinked once. “Where are we?” she inquired softly. Ivy smiled, enthused to know that Harley trusted her so readily. 

“A safe place. I established it a few years ago, when we were still new here.” 

  
“Of course it’s a safe place.” Harley grinned up at Ivy. “I’m with you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Come hang out or prompt me on tumblr @hoevarr!


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